


Impact

by Cassiara



Series: Watch Me 'Verse [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Plug, Aromantic Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Butt Plugs, Dom Ron Weasley, Dom/sub, Impact Play, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Sub Harry, Top Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiara/pseuds/Cassiara
Summary: “What the fuck took you so long?” Harry demands, running a hand through his already messed up hair and trying hard not to feel awkward at his state of undress and arousal in the face of Ron’s fully dressed body.“Fuck,” Ron says, eyes widening as his eyes run up and down Harry’s body with obvious interest. “Eager, are we?”“You’re almost twenty minutes late,” Harry says. He tries to sound angry, but it comes out as more of a whine.Ron opens the bag and pulls out a black leather paddle, and Harry groans at the sight of it.“Thought it might be worth the wait,” Ron says.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Series: Watch Me 'Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522358
Comments: 26
Kudos: 255





	Impact

**Author's Note:**

> Some plot accidentally made it's way into my PWP, you can totally skip it if you like - porn starts below the line.
> 
> Thank you to Keyflight790 for being a fantastic beta!!
> 
> This is catchup for Kinktober day 22 - Impact Play

“So there is this thing I’ve been wanting to try,” Harry admits into his beer-bottle.

“Really?” Ron asks. He’s swirling a glass of whiskey, in celebration of the huge sale their group-sex PWP memory had.

“Yeah,” Harry says, blushing a little and trying to hide it. “But I’m - er, I’m not really sure what the etiquette for this sort of thing is?”

“What sort of thing? Ron asks. He’s still swirling the cubes of ice around in his glass and Harry wonders if he really likes the drink, or if he’d bought it to celebrate and now feels he should drink it. Harry had given up on his glass after only a few sips, figuring he was better off with his beer. 

“Propositioning my best mate and sometimes porn-partner for kink exploration?” Harry figures if he just gets the words out it won’t be as awkward, but he can’t stop the blush from spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Ron barks a laugh and sets his drink down. With a flick of his wand, a bottle of beer comes flying from Harry’s kitchen, and he catches it easily.

“Is that what we are?” he asks, popping the bottle open with another flick of his wand. He’s wearing a muggle shirt, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and Harry can’t tear his eyes from them as the muscles work to twist his wand and clutch the bottle.

“Hm?” Harry asks, distracted by his nerves and by the look of those forearms. He pushes thoughts of the things they could do from his brain, and tries hard to focus at Ron and his question.

“Is that what we are? Best friends and sometimes porn-partners?” Ron is still grinning as he asks, and it soothes Harry to hear he’s not sounding twisted up about it.

Harry takes a swing from his bottle, allowing himself time to decide what it actually is he does want Ron to be before answering. “I’m er - I don’t think I could be anything more with anyone, if I’m honest. I mean, the sometimes porn-partner thing could change to just regular fucking - I’d like that. But I don’t think I have it in me to do the whole romantic monogamy bit. Is that … er -,” Harry breaks off and curses himself. He hadn’t meant for any of this to go the way it’s going. He hadn’t meant to question Ron’s feelings, because what if he had some and it ruined everything between them?

Ron scratched at the back of his head, the silence hanging heavily between them. “Right, so I’m just going to say what I want,” Ron says with a tone of determination, “and if that’s not what you want then that’s alright - we’ll figure it out. Alright?”

Harry nods, wishing he had Ron’s bravery and ability to think and formulate his desires into words. Harry had always struggled with that, realising what he wanted without actually getting it or losing the chance. 

“I like you. You’re my best mate, I’m over at your flat more than I am at my own. I like, actually fuck, I bloody love having sex with you. I’d like that to be a permanent arrangement. I know you don’t really do the romantic love stuff, but it doesn’t really matter to me if you love me as a mate or as a lover - as long as you do. Love me, I mean. Because I love you, in both ways. I’d like us to be in a relationship, and then we can define the terms ourselves.”

Fuck. What the fuck is Harry supposed to say to that? How the fuck is he supposed to formulate a thought with Ron being all open and earnest and _in love_. 

“Of course I love you. I do, you’re my best friend. And like I said, I already want to be having regular sex with you.” Harry took a steadying breath. “Like you said though, I don’t really see the difference between loving you as a best mate I like to fuck, or as a boyfriend. I feel like there isn’t one. And - I want to keep making porn. I don’t want you to be with me if it means settling for less.”

“But you do want to be with me?” Ron grins, and Harry feels like he’s sidestepping the point. 

“Of course I do, if being with you means the only change we make is having sex outside of making porn. I don’t mind saying we’re in a relationship or that we’re boyfriends. I don’t mind sitting close on the sofa or whatever. But I won’t ever want to move into the same bedroom. I won’t ever like kissing outside of sex. I won’t ever want to get married, or feel emotional over anniversaries or whatever.” Harry realises he’s talking too loud, and his next words come out in almost a whisper. “I won’t ever feel like it’s wrong to want sex with other people.”

“Honestly?” Ron asks, “I kinda like that. I like that you don’t feel romantic love because our friendship goes back to when we were 11. It survived a war, and you dating my sister, and that thing I had with Hermione. It’s so strong nothing could overpower it, really. And I’d never ask you to stop making porn, or sleeping with whomever you like. At least as long as you tell me about it or let me watch after.”

“Really?” Harry says, voice higher than he’d meant it to be.

“Fuck yeah, it’s so hot watching you get off with other people, Harry. You’ve no idea.”

“And the sharing a room?” Harry asks, a little uncertain now. He’d like to be with Ron. He’d like to never lose his best mate to a boyfriend or girlfriend like they’d lost Hermione to Pansy. Of course, they hadn't really lost her. But they saw her less these days, and when they did, it was clear that, while she used to always come running to them with news or questions first, now she goes to Pansy instead. Harry never wanted that to happen with Ron and him, but he also didn’t want Ron to miss out on anything. Not because of him.

“I don’t mind having my own space. But I’d like to share a flat, eventually. And I like sleepovers, especially after sex.” Ron winks at Harry as he mentions the sex, and Harry thinks it might be alright. At least for now, it seems what Harry has to offer is enough for Ron.

“We’ve talked about sharing a flat for years. You know I won’t mind that. And I do love a good snuggle and sleep-over after sex.”

Ron smirks. “Speaking of sex, you wanted to ask me something?”

Harry flushes again, though the idea of asking to do something that’s not for a porn is suddenly easier. 

“Impact play,” he says, taking another swig of his forgotten beer. “I’d like you to spank me.”

It’s Ron’s turn to blush now, his ears and cheeks bright pink against his freckles. “You’d really let me do that?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I think I’d really like it.”

“You haven’t done it before then?” Ron asks, biting his lower lip.

Harry shakes his head. “But I really want to try. And in private, for the first time. No memory for your shop.”

“I’ve done it once or twice,” Ron admits. “I like giving, but not er - receiving. And we just agreed it doesn’t always have to be a porn.”

Harry grins, heat moving from his flushed face to his cock. “So you’ll do it then?”

“Oh absolutely,” Ron agrees, “but not tonight. We’ve been drinking.”

Disappointment washes over Harry, but he knows Ron is right. Being anything but stone cold sober when testing out a new kink is never the best idea. His cock though, is still stirring in is pants. 

“Alright,” he says, sliding to the floor to crouch between Ron’s legs and smirking up at his friend, “could I interest you in a blowjob instead?”

* * *

The next day is a waiting game for Harry. He knows, realistically, that Ron has a job that he has to go to. That he has responsibilities. None of that seems to matter though, after Ron had woken Harry up with a fist on his cock and whispered a breathy “tonight” in his ear. The bastard had left without getting Harry off, and in some sort of masochistic anticipation, Harry hadn’t pulled himself off either. 

Harry has no intention of waiting until evening. Ron’s coming over right after work for dinner, and Harry figures they’ll fuck and _then_ eat. The plug he’d worked into his arse an hour ago feels woefully inadequate as Harry closes his eyes and imagines how Ron’s cock will feel fucking into his arse, how it’ll feel with Harry’s arse hot and sore from a good spanking. He’s sitting on his sofa watching the fireplace, and he can’t help but twist and press his arse into the cushions, hoping to push the plug in deeper. Ron is already fifteen minutes late, and in another five Harry thinks he might pull himself off and have dinner first after all. His cock is hard and leaking against the flimsy pants he’d put on, jeans left behind in the bedroom from when he’d inserted the plug to be ready as fast as possible when Ron comes. 

When the floo finally flares green, Harry groans in relief and jumps up from the sofa, ready to drag Ron into the bedroom.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Harry demands, running a hand through his already messed up hair and trying hard not to feel awkward at his state of undress and arousal in the face of Ron’s fully dressed body.

“Fuck,” Ron says, eyes widening as his eyes run up and down Harry’s body with obvious interest. “Eager, are we?”

“You’re almost twenty minutes late,” Harry says. He tries to sound angry, but it comes out as more of a whine. 

Ron grins and holds up the bag in his hand, drawing Harry’s attention to it. “Couldn’t come unprepared, could I?”

Harry resists both the urge to walk over and pull the bag out of Ron’s hand and the urge to walk into his bedroom to wank and hope Ron follows. “What’s that then?”

Ron opens the bag and pulls out a black leather paddle, and Harry groans at the sight of it. 

“Thought it might be worth the wait,” Ron says. He lays the paddle down on the coffee table and goes about removing his winter robes, banishing them to the hallway with a flick of his wand. 

Harry’s eyes move back to the paddle entirely without his permission, and he tries to work his mouth around forming words. “Please, now? Bedroom?”

“You remember our safeword?” Ron asks, picking up the paddle slowly, like he has all the time in the world. 

“Yes,” Harry says, wincing a little at the thought of it. “Snape.” Picking the least sexy thing they could think of for a safe-word would probably be effective if he ever needed to use it, but if Ron would keep asking about it, they needed a new one. Something nice and neutral.

Ron gives Harry an indulgent smile. “Very good.”

Harry shivers at the praise, and tries not to show it. Ron though, has always been too perceptive. “Go lay down on the bed, arse up, that’s a good boy.”

Harry turns to obey, only just resisting the need to put his hand down his pants as he does. He decides the pants will only get in the way, so he takes them off before moving to lay down on the bed. He hears Ron moving about the living room, and though he knows it’s not long before he hears the door to the bedroom close after Ron enters, it feels like forever. 

“Is that a plug?” Ron asks, climbing onto the bed behind Harry and pulling his arse cheeks apart with an appreciative sound. “You really are desperate for this, aren’t you? I’d wondered if most of it was for show.”

“‘s not,” Harry breathes, hips jerking a little into Ron’s touch. 

Ron releases his arse, only to smack it hard with his open palm. Harry lets out a sound of surprise and pleasure as the sting reverberates through his body, making him tingle. “Again, please.”

Ron hums, but doesn’t repeat the motion. “It’s really not for show then, how responsive you are? How pretty you look when you beg for it? Fuck, Harry, that’s so hot.”

Harry doesn’t reply, just whines into the sheets and pushes his arse up more, silently begging for Ron to smack it again. When he does, it’s harder than the first time and Harry moans as his arse jiggle with the aftershock. The sharp sting of pain the slap delivers courses through his body and makes pleasure bloom in its wake. Harry grins at the realisation that he loves this even more than he’d hoped he would. 

“Please,” he says, moving his arse up again from where it had automatically sank against the mattress at the shock of pain. “Again.”

Ron smacks his arse again and again with his palm, and Harry allows himself to get lost in it. The sound of the smacks hits his ears only milliseconds before pain spreads from his arse and through him, making him moan and gasp as it takes his pleasures to levels Harry hadn’t known existed outside of orgasming. He feels like every nerve in his body is singing with it, vibrating and coming alive with each slap of Ron’s hand. When Ron pauses, he feels warm and tingling, like every brush of the sheets against his skin is magnified. 

Ron runs a soothing hand over Harry’s arse and his touch is so intense Harry can feel the trail it leaves on his skin. When the hand dips between his cheeks to nudge a little at the plug, Harry groans, and feels his cock leak with precome. 

“You’re being so good for me Harry,” Ron says, continuing to run soft hands over Harry’s heated arse.

Harry releases a sound that’s part whine and part moan, and he should feel embarrassed but he doesn’t. Not when the edges of his mind are so pleasantly blurred with the pain and the pleasure of it. All his brain can focus on is the sensations, and Ron, and the blinding pulsing _need_ that’s building in the base of his spine. 

“Think you’re ready for the paddle?”

_Ohfuckyes_ Harry thinks, and moans again. His body shakes with want and pleasure and he lifts his arse impossibly higher, straining his back and thighs with the effort. 

“I’m going to need you to say it, Harry. It’s alright if you want to stick to my hand for now.” Ron’s voice is soft and managing somehow to drip with both arousal and concern. It washes over Harry and he holds on to it, letting Ron’s hands and voice guide him back to a place where he can form words.

“Please, yes, fuck yes. Ron, fuck.” The words are scrambled and as they make their way out of his mouth and Harry thinks they only make partway sense, but it doesn’t matter because yes was in there and Ron has to understand.

The smack the paddle makes against his arse is much louder than the ones Ron’s hands had made, and the following burning sting matches the intensity of the noise. Harry clenches his fists and moans desperately into the mattress. Fuck, it feels good. Painful and intense and intimate, and everything he had hoped for. The clarity of mind he’d managed to produce in order to speak earlier scurries back to where it had been hiding as Ron delivers a second strike of the paddle against Harry’s arse. Ron runs soft fingers over Harry’s arse again, and Harry marvels at how he feels both numb and overly sensitive at the same time. He wants more. More pain, more pleasure, more fingers, more _anything_.

“Your arse is so deliciously red for me Harry. You look amazing like this,” Ron says. Harry shivers in pleasure and anticipation, trying to figure out if the next touch will be the sharp pleasurepain of the paddle, or the torturous slow pleasure of Ron’s gentle hand. It’s neither, and the shock of having the plug abruptly pulled out of him makes Harry whine. He feels suddenly empty, and his earlier fantasies of Ron fucking into his sensitive and burning arse come flooding back to him with force. 

Harry can’t find the willpower to make his mouth work again though, too lost in the sensations and desperate need Ron produces in him. Ron doesn’t move to do anything else, and Harry makes a desperate sound at the back of his throat before letting his hips fall against the mattress so he can rut against the sheets. He just needs _something_ and he’s lost to the sweet friction against his cock when a hard strike of the paddle send pain and pleasure through him, fighting for dominance and making his nerves sing with fire and heat.

“I didn’t say you could get off yet,” Ron says. “Though I suppose if you _want_ me to fuck you when you’re over-sensitive from coming, I can’t stop you.”

The thought of Ron fucking him hard while he’s spent and sticky sends a shiver through Harry, and he thinks he definitely does want that. This time though, he wants to come with Ron’s thick cock buried deep in his stinging arse. He forces his hips to stop thrusting into the sheets and lifts his arse again, moving a hand back to hold himself open for Ron. 

“Please,” he manages, and it comes out sounding absolutely wrecked. Harry doesn’t mind. He feels wrecked. Aching and tingly and burning and so needy he doesn’t think he can stand it. 

“So good for me,” Ron mutters and thrusts his cock into Harry in one firm jerk of his hips. Harry gasps harshly, trying to get enough air into his lungs he revels in the feeling of finally being stretched around the cock he’d spent all day dreaming about, and the delicious pain of his burning arse being held open by Ron’s calloused hand.

“Fuck, I forgot how good your arse feels!” Ron says, pulling back before thrusting in _hard_. Harry screams as Ron’s cock brushes past the bundle of nerves that makes him see stars at the same time his hips smack against Harry’s burning arse. It feels almost too good, like the pleasure and pain will burn through him and leave nothing left. Gasping and clutching at the sheets Harry brings his hips back to meet Ron’s thrusts again and again. It’s too much and not enough and Harry loves it. 

Ron runs sharp nails down Harry’s back, his other hand gripping Harry’s hip hard as he thrusts into him. The ball of pleasure in his spine that normally explodes into his orgasm seems to have expanded to cover his entire body without bursting, and everything pulses with pleasure and need. He’s so close to coming, but the only need stronger than surrendering to the shocking waves of pleasure is the desire to please Ron, and Ron hasn’t given permission yet. 

“You’re being so good for me Harry,” Ron breathes, “so fucking good!”

Harry shivers with the praise, and his untouched cock leaks a steady stream of precome as his arse clenches around Ron and he tries desperately to hold on. 

“Come for me,” Ron says. 

Harry’s orgasming before the words are out. It hits him like a Bludger, hard and determined and so fucking good it makes Harry’s toes curl. Every nerve in his body, overly sensitive from being on edge all day and the pure strength of the sensations Ron has delivered him, scream with pleasure. Harry shakes with it, clenching around Ron and moaning helplessly as his cock empties itself in thick streaks on the sheets. 

Somewhere through the haze of his pleasure, Harry feels himself collapse to the bed, muscles too shaky to keep himself up, and Ron half lays down on top of him and continues to thrust into his arse. The steady friction against his prostate makes Harry’s orgasm last longer than he’d thought it could, and he relishes in the soft tingles of pleasure. Not entirely sure if he’s still coming somehow, or if he’s floating on the high of aftershakes, Harry grins into the sheets as Ron fucks his arse to completion. He moans when hot come fills his arse, and Ron collapses on top of him with his softening cock still buried in deep. 

“Best idea ever,” Harry says. His voice still sounds shaky, but his body feels soft and pliant and warm underneath Ron’s.

Ron hums in agreement, running soft fingers down Harry’s arm. “Want me to heal you?”

Harry considers it for a second; his arse feels hot and tingly and he thinks it might bruise a little. Hopes it will. “Please don’t,” he says, “I kinda love how it feels. And fuck, it’ll be so hot to see your bruises on me.”

Ron groans, jerking his hips a little against Harry. “You’ll kill me. One of these days I’ll just drop dead from an overdose of arousal.”

“If you die, I’ll kill you,” Harry murmurs. He’s halfway asleep, and he considered giving into it and letting Ron deal with the sticky mess of their come. 

“I meant to tell you earlier,” Ron says, “but well, you distracted me.”

“Hm?” Harry says, eyes closed and smiling.

“I had a letter at work today. A request really. To make porn with you.” Ron’s voice sounds amused and intrigued, and Harry turns his head and opens an eye to look at him. “Apparently Draco Malfoy would love to tie you up.”


End file.
